


Across the Sky

by bloodredcherry



Category: 28 Weeks Later (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherry/pseuds/bloodredcherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story of what could have been...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me! This story is for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Authors Note: I was not impressed with the second movie so I've decided to write a few one shots and they are definitely AU. It's only a romance if you squint.
> 
> The title from this story is from the Emilie Autumn song, Prologue: Across the Sky.
> 
> Chapter one was written to Opheliac by Emilie Autumn.

He stared up at the sky, if he ignored the ache in his muscles, and the the small body curled against his, he might have been back there. The last twenty four hours might never have happened.

He heard Andy huff a breath, and he shifted in his sleep. Tammy was sprawled out beside her brother, her arm thrown across his back, her hair splayed across the green grass. 

Doyle pinched the bridge of his nose, a migraine had settled there and he closed his eyes, hoping a few hours of rest would take the edge off.

He was working another double shift, it was quiet, as usual and like every other day he was scanning the rooms in the building across from his post through his scope. He remembered waving at Michaels, then focused in on a man doing pushups in his room, two people fighting and then –he almost missed it – a couple.

Doyle closed his eyes briefly; he knew a few of the guys got off on watching couples have sex. He had heard some pretty crazy stories – not all of which he believed but Doyle didn’t enjoy watching. Looking sent a longing through him, so sharp it was painful and he always turned his face away.

He had laughed, and glanced up at the sky, he couldn’t see any stars. He paused for a moment then turned his scope and focused in on a window towards the top of the medical building. It only took a second to find her office window.

_This_ was Doyle’s kind of voyeurism, at first he was only interested in watching people in their own habitats, watching their actions, looking at the expressions on their faces. Then he found _her_ , and he stopped watching the others.

She - _Scarlet_ , she had a name now - was looking down at something, her desk, Doyle had guessed when she suddenly looked out her window, right at him. Doyle felt his heart catch in surprise, but her gaze kept moving, and Doyle sighed.

“Doyle.”

Scarlet’s voice broke through his reverie.

He sat up suddenly; his vision swam before his eyes as he felt the sensation of all the blood rushing to his head. He braced his hand on the ground before he lost his balance.

“Careful,” Scarlet said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t…” she paused, “Can’t you sleep?” She asked.

“No.” Doyle replied he shifted to his side. He looked at Scarlet, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. She was sitting up; she had his rifle slung across her shoulder, and he noticed she was gripping it so hard she was shaking.

Scarlet didn’t hold the rifle with assurance, like it was an extension of her body, instead she held it tight against her shoulder - to guard against kick-back, she was clutching it tight enough to bruise. This woman wasn’t used to assault rifles, she was used syringes.

She wasn’t used to hurting people; she was used to helping them.

Scarlet _did_ what Doyle believed he had been doing for the people of Britain, before everything had become a scream of chaos and a blaze of smoke. Scarlet was tough as hell, and Doyle found he admired her.

She hadn’t abandoned the children; she favoured her left leg and gritted her teeth without complaining.

“Here,” Doyle broke the silence. Scarlet took her eyes away from the tree-line and looked at him. “You look like a walking corpse,” he quipped.

A corner of Scarlet’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile.

He gestured to his gun and Scarlet snorted and  all but thrust his rifle into his hands.

She _did not_ _like guns_ , especially after tonight.

Scarlet wrung her hands, rubbing some feeling back into her aching fingers. She glanced at Doyle, Scarlet hadn’t questioned him, beyond asking who he was, but she knew.

He was a sniper, the gun itself was a dead give away.

She knew.

He had been one of the men who had been playing target practice with the terrified mob of people on the streets below.

Doyle felt Scarlet's gaze, and he found himself suddenly grateful and he reached out but caught himself just in time. What was he going to do? Shake her hand, and thank her for not leaving him behind like she should have?

He couldn’t watch as he made the shot, he would keep his eyes unfocused as he chose a target and shot, it was easier that way. Focusing on targets meant thinking, and thinking made it a conscious kill. Hell, he knew it didn’t make any sense but how do senseless acts make sense?  
At least they remained as shadows, innocents without faces.

Scarlet didn’t miss the haunted look in Sergeant Doyle’s eyes, it was his tell. She had noticed it the first time she saw him. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have followed him out of that warehouse.

He caught her eye, and this time he reached out and stilled her hands.

"Try to get some sleep," he watched as she opened her mouth to protest when Tammy roused from her sleep with something between a sob and a gasp.

Scarlet carefully got to her feet and crawled with difficulty to Tammy.

"It's okay, Tammy," the empty words had the desired effect and Tammy settled back onto the ground, but when Scarlet reached for her hand she clutched it tightly.

"How's your leg?"

"Fine," Scarlet shifted and hided her grimace by pretending to brush hair out of her face. Tammy glanced at Andy's sleeping form and rolled her eyes.

"He could sleep through an earthquake, _literally_." Doyle didn't miss the envy in Tammy's voice and he watched as Tammy reached out to brush Andy's hair out of his open mouth.

"I had a roommate like that in college, he slept like the dead." Doyle realized his poor choice of words too late, and he furrowed his brow and let out a sigh.

He wondered how many regrets he would have when all of this was over - He chose not to dwell on that thought.

 

\---

 

It was only when Scarlet was sleeping that Doyle allowed himself to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek, and he found himself wishing that he wasn't such a coward.

He knew he had their trust, even though he didn't feel that he deserved it.

He rubbed a hand across his tired eyes.

He would earn it.

Even if it killed him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Please keep your criticism constructive!


End file.
